


three worn words

by Skyebyrd



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Bottom Louis, Dom/sub Play, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, nothing Too Crazy but its there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 02:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13754544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyebyrd/pseuds/Skyebyrd
Summary: Harry isn’t completely bad. Kensington Gardens is, so far, an incredible show that sticks really true to the novels, lifting almost the entire dialogue from them. It’s just that Harry isn’t Victor. Harry is...he’s Harry.Harry is sweet, and kind, and also, right, never fucking called him back. Fuck him.He sucks as Victor, Louis takes it back.Louis is a big fan of the romance novelKensington Gardens. What he isn't a fan of, however, is Harry Styles playing Prince Victor of Wales.





	three worn words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rbbsbb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rbbsbb/gifts).



> Thanks to naureen for 1) being my beta ilu 2) calling me rainbow rowell. Creating kensington gardens was even more fun than writing this fic, i’m going to be honest lol
> 
> There’s a couple brief (like, so brief) characters in here from sonny with a chance, only because i thought kensington gardens was just as dramatic as mackenzie falls and thought it would be a funny tie-in. 
> 
> Brief, brief (blink and you’ll miss them) references are made to drowning in your eyes by smittenwithlouis, young & beautiful by velvetoscar, and landslide by aimmyarrowshigh and spibsy, all on ao3. 
> 
> ABOUT THE VIOLENCE/HOMOPHOBIA: it is only within kensington gardens. there is ONE explicitly violent scene from the book series, but it doesn't impact the "real life" characters. the homophobia is only within the books as well and is not shown in "real life."

Louis, if someone was to ask him, probably wouldn’t say he’s a big fan of _Kensington Gardens_ . _Kensington Gardens_ is an old series of novels set at the turn of the 20th Century, starring Prince Victor of Wales and how he deals with love, life, and loss. It’s a moving piece but, from a distance of acquantisanship to mild friendship, it wouldn’t seem like anything Louis would be interested in at all. Louis Tomlinson loves football, beers and burgers. He loves going out to clubs, he loves dancing and getting sloshed. He admits he wants to settle down at some point, find a good, tall, strong man to love him for the rest of his days and adopt a lot of babies with.

Now, if you were one of Louis’ good friends, he would tell you precisely what His Royal Highness Prince Victor of Wales smells like. How his eyes shine just so in the late afternoon sun, or how softly he speaks to his love. His Royal Highness Prince Victor of Wales is gay, tall, sweet and curly as can be. His Royal Highness Prince Victor of Wales is the fictional lead of _Kensington Gardens_ and also, on a small level, possibly the dream love of Louis’ life.

Louis picked up the book when he was eighteen, returning home for the summer from his stay in London at uni. He couldn’t afford to lease a flat out there for the summer and when his mum said he could come back home to a free couch, electricity, and food, he was all for it.

He’d encouraged the move, had always felt weird that he got a single room while his sisters had to double up. Of course, he would never outright complain because he loved having his own space, but hearing his sister’s complaints all the time...well, he understood. Especially now that he himself had had to share a room with his new best friend Zayn Malik, who seemed to never leave his bed yet had about five hundred photographs to edit all day. Didn’t he have classes to get to all year? Wasn’t that why they were at school?  

Anyway. Lottie got her own room and Louis was so exhausted from the drive that he’d gone right up there and dropped his bags and passed out on her bed. Or, well, he would have had there not been a book on the pillowcase that hurt his head when he banged it on the cover. He sat up and picked the book up, the cover depicting a pale man with a rose in his hand and a shadow on the ground behind him. The book itself was small and hardback, looking a little worse for wear, if he was being honest, and a dark blue color. The words “Kensington Gardens” was written in a fancy, cursive font. It looked….well, it looked like some erotica novel that old ladies read in sandwich shops for no reason other than they had lost all of their shame. The light pink on the walls and the sheets on Lottie’s bed added as a strange backdrop to the erotica novel that was in his hands.

Now that Louis had gotten aware of his surroundings, he wondered why Lottie had this book and began flipping through it in disbelief that his younger sister owned an erotica book at her age. Who would have sold it to her? Where did she buy it? Why did she even have it in the first place? She was too young for that. He’d have to give her a talk -- okay, this isn’t erotica. Fine. It’s clearly about some prince named Victor and his betrothed Astrid.

_Astrid came into the dining room along with the other girls and women from the adjacent room and then men around him stood up in respect, Victor hurrying to comply himself. Astrid looked stunning in her dining dress, a darling pale pink and a sweeter, honey green, not quite moss and not quite mint. Victor had trouble seeing where the pink ended and the green began. It truly was quite the piece and she looked stunning in it, the sleeves rounded at both the shoulders and the elbows because Astrid was nothing if not contemporary. She--_

Boring. Who cared about yet another heterosexual, royal marriage and the flowering descriptions about early 20th Century life? He’d left it on the bed before taking his bag and going downstairs and thought nothing more of it. Louis put his things next to the couch, fluffed up the pillows, and took a nap because he was still tired, thanks.

Lottie later gifted it to him at dinner, explaining the main character was actually gay and she had thought Louis might like it.

“It’s a series called _Kensington Gardens_ and this is the first book, _Winter_. I think there’s three or four total, I can’t remember. Chad Dylan Cooper wrote it ages ago in, like, the 1980s or something, but I don’t think it’s in circulation still.” Lottie had told him. He wasn’t going to say no to that.

He’d begun reading it that night and when Fizzy walked downstairs at six AM to get some breakfast before school, she saw her brother sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the pages. Louis finished the book in one fell swoop, all 623 pages of it. Someone definitely had owned it before him because there were all kinds of notes and highlights in the margins, and he loved that as an English major, seeing someone else’s thought process and analysis while reading it himself.

Later that week, after fruitless research online that produced only incredibly expensive collector’s editions or copies that were selling for less than a dollar, which Louis didn’t exactly trust, he dragged himself to every bookstore in the area. Then he drove down to London and went into all the bookstores there, and then all the second-hand bookstores as well. He called library after library, bookstores up in Manchester, or even in Liverpool. Then he swallowed his pride and gave up. Lottie herself had said it was a rare one, not really in print anymore, so he probably couldn't find it.

Fine. It was _fine_.  

Until he gave in and read the first book again. This time, he read with new insight, of His Royal Highness Prince Victor of Wales, closeted and afraid. Louis read about how Victor’s valet Clifford, devoted monarchist who knew of Victor’s gayness, murders Victor’s love Jeremiah, the stable hand. Jeremiah and Victor never even kissed or held hands before Victor has to hold Jeremiah as he lay dying, too afraid to touch each other or get too close. Clifford only knows of the relationship because Victor considered them both to be his closest friends. He could never imagine Clifford to be capable of murder. He entrusts Clifford with his deepest secrets, including his love for Jeremiah. And then Clifford murders Jeremiah to “preserve the integrity of the crown,” or what the fuck ever.

Fucking monarchists.

 _Winter_ covers how Victor struggles with not wanting to endanger the crown, being afraid of Clifford and having to be surrounded by Clifford’s presence day in and day out, the duties of being the crown prince, and the news that his good friend, Her Royal Highness Princess Astrid of Norway, is to be his betrothed. The first installation ends with Clifford telling him he would never allow Victor to be alone with another man again. _Tragic_.

The ultimate story, honestly. How could Chad Dylan Cooper top it?

Once again, Louis took a deep breath and called around local bookstores again. When that didn’t work, he called Greenwich. Then Norwich. Then Ipswich. All the -wiches out there, really. Derby, Leicester, Leeds, Brighton. Dover, Plymouth, Exeter, and even into fucking Carlisle. He was now desperate and on his third re-read of _Winter_ , wanting to underline some passages like his predecessor but not daring to mark up what was now his most prized (and possibly most expensive) possession.

He called fucking Glasgow. Aberdeen. Ayr, Oban, Perth. All across Scotland and Wales, and at this point he may just cross the sea and go to Ireland for this. France. Fuck, was he willing to risk America? Was he that desperate? He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Finally, fucking goddamn _finally_ , someone on the edge of the planet in Ullapool said they had the entire series in the bargain bin and would he like them to set it aside and hold it for him? Louis couldn’t believe his luck. He can do Scotland, fucking easy, so he immediately said yes, then told his mum he was going to Ullapool to pick up something before beginning the drive.

His mum had told him he was crazy going out of the country for a book series, of course. But he’d read _Winter_ four times at that point and he’d be damned if he didn’t find out what happened to Victor. Sweet, sweet Victor. He deserved happiness.

He’d driven halfway up to Ullapool before stopping at a hotel just outside of Glasgow in Stirling. After getting a single room for the night, he went to the bar next door for a drink. It was a long drive and he was exhausted, and really only went in for _one_ drink. The place looked much more like a club than a bar, however, and Louis almost backed out but thought why not. He didn’t care what it was, at that point. The lights were all over the place, flashing and pointing and going crazy, the music too loud to hear his own thoughts.

He dropped by the bar, hailing the tender and asking him to “Surprise me, but no gin.” The bartender laughed and went about fixing Louis’ drink. There was a boy directly next to him and nobody else.

“Do you not like gin?” The boy asked, his voice syrupy slow. Louis wondered how much the boy had to drink already. He had long hair, shoulder-length, and curls for days. On his head was a snapback, put on backwards, and Louis hated fratboys but fuck if this wasn’t doing it for him.

“Despise it, mate.” The bartender plopped something bright green, frozen, and, most importantly, gigantic in front of him. Some kind of daiquiri, Louis guessed. Louis tossed over his pay and waved back the change. He came in for one drink and while this one probably counted for two or three, he wasn’t going to get another, that was for sure. He took a sip and it was really strong, forcing him to cough. The boy next to him laughed loudly, throwing his head back and revealing a strong jawline to him.

“So what’s another Brit doing this far north?” Louis asked. He recognized the accent vaguely but couldn’t place it in his mind.

“I’m here for a movie audition, actually. I’m well excited about it. I’ve done a few commercials and things but a movie would be amazing, you know? Ultimate goal. What about you?”

Louis remembers raising his eyebrows in shock. An actor. That was definitely unexpected. “I’m here to pick up some books. _Kensington Gardens_. They’re not in print anymore and I’m a fan so I’m picking up the rest of the series. They’re holding them up in bloody Ullapool for me.”

The boy made a grimace in sympathy. “Ouch. That’s a drive. Where’d you start? Hopefully not London, please don’t kill me.”

Louis laughed. “No, no, near Manchester. I’m back home for the summer.”

What Louis doesn’t remember is what happened in between that part of the conversation and the grinding in the dimly lit back of the bar/club. He must have gotten Harry’s name at some point because, well, he knew it and was breathing it out against Harry’s mouth as their clothed crotches rubbed against each others. Harry was an incredible kisser, really. He had a great technique down. A little bit of tongue here, a bite there…

Louis let out a gasp when Harry pulled his mouth away and bit Louis on the neck. He stayed there for quite some time, sucking and nibbling there, Louis putty in his arms. Louis couldn’t stop moaning, either; moaning, whining, groaning, gasping, it was all there. Harry was pressing all of his buttons and _really_ knew what to do with them.

Harry pulled away, a small string of saliva trailing between his bottom lip and Louis’ neck. Louis shouldn’t have found that hot, but instead he focused on that image almost every time he wanked for the next several months. Harry turned Louis around and he sat down at the booth they were pressed up against, and Harry yanked Louis down into his lap. The music was loud and the room was pretty dark, so Louis did the only logical thing he thought of: he gave Harry a lap dance.

One of Louis’ favorite things to do for people is to give lap dances, and Harry was no exception. Louis swung his hips around just right, slowly and sensually, and before he knew it Harry had grabbed him by his arse -- _hard_ . Another of Louis’ favorites is to be bossed around by boys much bigger than himself. And Harry was _bigger_. He had these massive paws that cupped Louis’ arse just perfectly and he moaned out loud at the feeling. Louis’ head began spinning and the next events were blurry. Harry had returned his mouth to Louis’ neck, focusing on where he had been a few minutes ago.  

Louis was definitely bruised there by this point and Harry just kept _going_. He kept Louis in his lap and Louis never wanted to move.

Of course, Harry’s friends came over to collect him and that was that.

Louis did eventually return to his bed in the hotel, alone. He’d think about that night for a long time.

 

* * *

 

When he finally got all the way to the bloody north pole of Ullapool and walked into the second-hand bookshop, he could’ve cried when the cashier handed him the entire series. It was more than he could have dreamed of. An untouched box set in its original packaging, of the entire series, including _Winter_. It cost him a measly thirty pounds, and between that and the petrol and hotel stay, he’d spent less than 100. Which was less than half of what _Spring_ cost online, the gougers.

He finished the rest of the series within the next two weeks.

That was almost two years ago.

Now he’s sitting on his couch, scrolling through different fanfictions of Victor and Eoghan, and debating, not for the first time, whether or not he should write one of his own. He doesn’t have the skill to write fic, but he’s got ideas, and there’s nowhere near enough writers in the small _Kensington Gardens_ fandom. Victor and Eoghan as pirates, for one. Victor would make a fantastic mermaid, too, so maybe he should combine those two ideas. Victor as a mermaid that is saved by Eoghan, captain of his own pirate ship. Astrid could also captain her own ship, be friends with Eoghan and meet Victor through Eoghan.

He quickly jots the idea down on his phone before he loses it. Just above it are “Victor and Eoghan in an uber elite uni where Victor’s an asshole,” and “It’s the 70s and there’s a cult?” His notes make no sense to him half the time but they’re there if he ever wants to give a plot to another author that’s asking for ideas, or maybe even gather up the courage to write it himself. 

He goes back to his laptop, going to Twitter, and sees nothing but excited tweets from fellow _Kensington Gardens_ fans. _Kensington Gardens_ has been picked up for television recently and fans have been eagerly awaiting more news. It’s just been announced there will be four series, four episodes each per novel, with _Winter_ airing on September 7th. Louis checks the calendar, running over to it and practically ripping it off the wall. It’s a fanmade calendar with fanart of Victor, Eoghan, and Astrid (and any combination thereof) all over the calendar. It’s June right now, beginning of summer, so it’s a drawing of Victor and Eoghan holding hands in the library of Buckingham palace, one of their many meeting places. _Summer_ is rife with Victor and Eoghan falling in love, the crown prince and the royal driver. Truly destined.

September 7th, right there, a watercolor piece of Astrid amongst the leaves (September being her birth month) above it and -- _yes_ , it’s a Friday. He can stay up as late as he needs to watch it without being worried about school or work the next morning as the coffee shop he works at is closed weekends. He’s vibrating with excitement. He’ll finally be able to see his favorite scenes come to life, see Victor and Eoghan fall in love right in front of him. He’ll be able to see Clifford’s intimidation, Astrid’s poise and faithfulness and trust. Eoghan’s drastic ideals of reform in comparison to Victor’s need to appease the crown.

But most importantly, he’ll see Victor and Eoghan _kiss_.

He draws a giant circle around the 7th, then a couple hearts, and then a few stars. This is an important date. He’s definitely not going to forget it but it can’t hurt to have the reminder on the calendar. Louis goes back to his computer, pulling up Twitter again. All of the people he follows on this account (username vichan_addict) are in the fandom, and he has a separate, rarely used “normal” account for his day-to-day life.

Regardless, everyone on his Twitter feed is freaking the fuck out. Lots of capital letters, lots of key smashes, lots of excitement. He hasn’t seen the fandom this excited since _Kensington Gardens_ came back into print and circulation again late last year, just a few months after he’d gotten into the fandom himself. That day was incredible, honestly. He went in and bought a new box set that had updated covers, costing him a soul-crushing fifty pounds, but he happily handed it over to have brand new books. No more of the cheesy pale man with the rose on the front, or the guy in black in white looking off into the distance of nothing.

Oh, no. All the books in _Kensington Gardens_ has the same scene of a large Oak tree and a gazebo to the left of it, the branches winding over the roof of the gazebo, paths winding through the garden. _Winter_ is pristine, blanketed in snow and flurries tumbled across the cover. _Spring_ is gorgeous, full of flowering tulips and gorgeous grass, the oak tree a luscious green. _Summer_ looks sweltering, the grass perhaps not as vibrant but the sun overpowering, the oak full and powerful. _Fall_ has the leaves of the oak all over the ground, and the texture on them is incredible, they look like they’ll crumble if touched.

He still has the originals that he bought in Ullapool, of course. They’re in a glass display on a shelf above his bed. They could be worth a lot of money, after all, especially with those original covers. He doubts he’ll ever part from them, though.

When _Kensington Gardens_ got back into print, it blew up. Everyone everywhere, amongst many age ranges, young to old, women and men and everyone in between and outside alike _love_ this book. Cooper said in an interview, when it got to number one on the New York Times bestsellers list, that he had no idea it would get this big when he decided to put it back into circulation. It had stopped being printed in ‘94, apparently, when enough people complained about the book starring a gay prince that his publisher at the time dropped him pretty much immediately and Cooper struggled finding anyone that would publish him at all, let alone _Kensington Gardens_. Now that times were more modern and understanding, Cooper had said, he and his new publishers decided it would be best to print again and hope for the best. And the best is what they got.

Having all four books out at the same time was really lucky, too. It was as easy as a Netflix binge, where someone can watch all twelve or so seasons of _Grey’s Anatomy_ as quick as they please without having to wait for the next episode to release. There was no waiting for the next _Gardens_ book, so people flocked and bought all four books and it became a phenomenon very easily.

Louis keeps getting notifications of new tweets to see, but he scrolls down instead, trying to pinpoint who broke the news first, and -- ah, there it is, xvichanridloverx’s tweet about BBC picking up the show and a news article related to it.

  


**Kensington Gardens Gets a Show**

**By Sonny Monroe**

 

 _BBC has recently announced that it will be taking up a brand new series based off the bestselling books,_ Kensington Gardens _. The series, written by author Chad Dylan Cooper, (best known for_ Mackenzie Falls _) is a saga depicting a gay prince (Victor, played by Harry Styles, right) who must keep secrets about his sexuality and the murder of his good friend from the public, his friends, and family. He later becomes engaged to Norwegian princess, Astrid (Cara Delevigne, left). It is sure to be a winner amongst audiences as it depicts a gay prince as its main storyline, something BBC has never done before. It is set to air in early fall on September 7th._  


Louis sets about cropping the article about _Kensington Gardens_ out of the rest of the website’s page and he zooms into the cast. He actually recognizes both of them, which is good.

Harry Styles is definitely that boy he made out with a couple years ago. Louis had only ever thought about him occasionally (those first few weeks of thinking about him constantly notwithstanding) until Harry had broken out onto the film scene. He’d since chopped off his hair and gotten even more fit, if that was possible, and Louis went to go see his first movie in some gross, fratboy comedy. It wasn’t his best work, that’s for sure. Louis told Zayn about Harry, how they met in a bar and made out, which Zayn always makes fun of him for (“Should’ve gotten his number, you could be in a mansion by now, mate.”) After the comedy, he got his first serious role in _Dunkirk_ and then co-starred in the new Bond movie as Q. Going from movies to television is a strange choice, but, Louis supposes, it is a BBC series, which are always very movie-like. Seeing a boy he made out with a couple years ago as the fictional love of his life on screen is weird. It’s very weird. He knows what that mouth feels like, he knows how big those hands are and how they can cup his arse just right.

He’s struggling, however, imagining Harry in Victor’s role. The eyes are off, for one. Victor’s eyes are a brown that reflects the changing seasons. In _Winter,_ his eyes are always described as a much harder, cooler brown, but as _Summer_ progresses and he and Eoghan get closer, Eoghan comments on his “soft hazel eyes, expressive as the wind.” Eoghan is a poet in another life, Louis is sure. Harry’s eyes are too green and Louis hopes he wears contacts for the role.

Louis also focuses on how short Harry’s hair is. When he met Harry that first time, his hair was really long -- Louis remembers tugging on it as Harry sucked on his neck in the back of the bar. Harry’s since had to cut it for his other roles. Victor’s hair grows out as the series goes, a perfect representation of his growing burdens and secrets. Cooper perfectly writes about Clifford forcing Victor to be open, tying Victor’s hair up in a bun or a lower ponytail as the year goes on, never allowing Victor to hide behind his curls. Louis isn’t worried about the length of hair during Winter, because Victor’s hair doesn’t really start becoming a motif until the end of _Spring_ and definitely throughout _Summer_ and the majority of _Fall_ , but how are they going to make it look realistic?

Otherwise, the show seems promising. BBC series are almost always incredible, especially period pieces.

“Hey Zayn.” Louis calls out from the couch. Meeting Zayn freshman year was definitely a blessing, albeit in disguise. Sharing a flat with him is great because he’s a chill guy, keeps the main spaces clean, and keeps to his room a lot while he edits his photos he takes whenever he’s out. Zayn takes his camera with him everywhere; he says he likes to keep it with him in case he sees something. He doesn’t photograph everything, of course, as sometimes things are best left to memory, but other times he gets it out and gets an amazing shot. He does a lot of people, but large groups, like tourists or families. People just living.

Sharing a single two-bed room, on the other hand, was hell. Because Zayn never leaves his room except for class and to eat. Because he stays in there to edit his photos. So Louis was never fucking _alone_. Going an entire school year reduced to wanking in the shower is surely classified as cruel and unusual punishment.

“Hey, Lou.” Zayn says back, swinging his backpack and camera bag onto the counter. Zayn opens the door to the fridge and pokes around, like he’s going to find anything that hasn’t been in there since they last shopped a week ago. They both go to the store every Friday and get the basics; Zayn has recently decided to try to go vegetarian and Louis is being a good sport about it while Zayn’s around (but he secretly goes out and gets burgers without him). Veggie burgers just aren’t the same. So essentially all that’s in the fridge are some carrots, apples, a spring mix, ranch dressing, ketchup, mayo, and a few other sandwich things. Cheese, of course, potatoes in the cupboard, and crisps as well. Some digestives because they can’t give up sweet snacks. Ice cream, frozen chips and some pizza rolls.

They’ve got a well-rounded diet but Louis can’t imagine the vegetarian thing lasting long, not with the way Zayn messes around the fridge for a few minutes and ends up reaching for a bag of Doritos instead. Zayn brings the Doritos over, grabbing his backpack and leaving his camera bag on the counter. He drops down next to Louis, who has to scoot back to make room. Louis is leaning with his back against the armrest, his legs extended over the couch and now over Zayn’s lap. Zayn pulls his own laptop out and sets it in his lap over Louis’ calves, the two of them getting comfortable.

Louis watches over the top of his own laptop as Zayn pulls up Photoshop and begins editing a few shots from a couple days ago when they went to the park for a kickabout.

“Did you get any good shots today?” Louis asks, turning his attention back to his Twitter feed. Sixty eight new tweets await him and he clicks on the reload, scrolling again through the fan and update accounts. There’s already a _Kensington Gardens_ show twitter account apparently (bbc_kgardens) and there’s -- fuck, their header is a shot of Harry Styles dressed as Victor in the center, and Cara Delevigne to his right as Astrid, and who must be Clifford to the left of him. Louis doesn’t recognize him. The rest of the main cast (bar Eoghan, of course, as he doesn’t make an appearance until the middle of _Spring_ ) is spread out across the line.

“No, none. Class was good, though, actually went to all of them today,” Zayn answers.

Louis looks away from his laptop at the news and smiles. “Zayn, you did? That’s so great.” Zayn’s always had a hard time going to school full time. There will be weeks on end where he’ll only go to a class or two, so for Zayn to go to every single class all in one day is a great achievement.

Zayn gets a shy, bashful expression on his face. “Thanks. I’ve been having a good few days, actually.”

Louis knows when not to push it, but he still says, “Proud of you.”

Zayn just continues editing his photos. It’s not until a few hours later, Louis finally having forced himself away from Twitter and towards his paper coming up, that Zayn asks how his day was. Louis purposefully plans all his classes to be on the Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule so he can have his Tuesdays and Thursdays to either work the morning shift at the coffee shop down the road or do his homework. He was off today, home all day and pretty much glued to this very couch.

“Oh, you know. Nothing huge.” Louis grins as Zayn gets up to go to the kitchen to make them dinner. They trade days, although it usually ends up being Zayn cooking because cutting out meat has drastically reduced the amount of frozen, pre-made meals Louis can whip out. “BBC announced they’re doing a _Kensington Gardens_ show and it’s going to air on September 7th and you and Liam are watching it with me.”

Liam is Zayn’s ex, although they all remain good friends together. Zayn and Liam were good friends and liked each other for a long time before deciding to go out, and they were together for a solid year before they figured out it was best for them to just be friends. It was all very grown up, in Louis’ opinion. Liam is also on the football team with Louis. He and Zayn are very familiar with Louis’ _Kensington Gardens_ obsession.

Zayn turns around, a huge smile on his face. “What? Louis, that’s sick, mate!”

Louis’ excitement from a few hours ago comes rushing back to his body and he’s vibrating in his own skin again. “I know! And guess who they cast as Victor?”

Zayn pulls out some carrots, tomatoes, and celery from the fridge and starts rummaging through the cupboard, eventually pulling out a few egg noodles and vegetable broth. Ooh, Louis loves vegetable soup. His darling mum made it for him all the time back home, and even when he visits sometimes.

“Uh...let’s see, Victor’s tall and curly right?” Zayn asks, while pulling out a purple onion, a head of garlic, and a few potatoes. He gets a pot out and puts olive oil in the bottom of it without turning on the stove just yet.

“Yes, it’s--”

“No, no, let me guess!” Zayn protests as he grabs a knife and a cutting board, motioning to Louis to come help with the chopping of ingredients. Louis starts with the carrots while Zayn goes into the spice cabinet and pulls things out. Louis is rolling his eyes the whole time Zayn thinks about it.

By the time all the ingredients are on the stove and cooking away, Zayn’s guesses of John Cleese, Sir Ian McKellan, and Shah Rukh Khan have all been denied and he’s still going, getting more and more ridiculous as he goes.

“Fuck, Zayn,” Louis interrupts, “no, it’s not Thomas Brodie Sangster, it’s Harry bloody Styles!”

At this, Zayn’s eyes light up with mirth. “Oh, the love of your life is playing the fictional love of your life, is it?” He teases and Louis rolls his eyes.

“Don’t even start.”

“You’re going to see him all over your screen, for four years, and if I know you at all, and I do, you’re not going to watch those episodes once and be done with it. You’re going to record it as it airs, then you’re going to buy the season when it comes out, then you’ll buy the box set series when it’s finished. You’ll also probably buy posters and calendars and--”

“Okay, Zayn, we get it. I’m a slut for Prince Victor of Wales. I also wouldn’t say no to Harry Styles should he ask for another go. However, those two are not related.”

Zayn smiles, but it’s a bit wicked. A bit sinister. “But they are, my friend. They absolutely are.”

 

* * *

 

Louis wonders for about the tenth time that day why September 7th isn’t a national holiday. He’s at work, whipping together a café au lait and glancing at the clock for arguably the sixteenth time that hour. Jade should have been here sixteen minutes ago at six o’clock on the dot, and she’s never been late before, to his knowledge. As selfish as the thought is, he hopes she hasn’t died or something because he has to get home. Obviously if she is dead, he’ll regret this thought immensely. But she’s probably not, so he harbors his feelings for just a while longer.

After Louis hands out the café au lait, he has nothing more to do. He grabs a rag out of the wash bin under the counter and sets cleaning up the small messes he’s made since he did this a few minutes ago. Rush hour has long come and gone, not many people come in for coffee at this time. It’s a Friday and people have better places to be at twenty minutes past six than a coffee shop. Like, an actual restaurant, maybe. Or their house.

Nothing is happening so he tells Danielle she can go on break, he’ll just watch until either Danielle gets back or Jade comes in. The mustard-yellow walls don’t have any art on them to distract him, either, so he sets on rubbing the rag on all the equipment for a second time. Then a third. Then he organizes the for-here mugs by size, then by color. He’s out of his mind bored, but also stressed because if Jade doesn’t come in he’ll have to close and the shop doesn’t close until nine, and he’ll miss the premiere of his favorite book series ever. A customer comes in and orders a vanilla latte with three pumps of matcha and two pumps of butterscotch, no foam, three seconds of whipped cream (who the _fuck_ measures whipped cream by seconds) and a dash of cinnamon on top. This bitch thinks this is a Starbucks, honestly.

Jade comes rushing into the shop a few minutes later, looking frazzled out of her mind, the poor thing. She looks so out of it, her belt half-done and her shoes untied, that Louis forgives her then and there. The show isn’t until eight anyways. He only wanted the extra time to get some last discussions in with fellow fans on Twitter, and maybe pick up a pizza or something for him and the lads.

“I’m so sorry, Louis, I fell asleep on accident and didn’t wake up until six exactly, I feel so bad, I know you had those plans tonight, I--”

“It’s fine, Jade. Those plans aren’t until eight.” He calls out the name for the ridiculous whatever-latte with no foam and hands it over to the customer and returns his attention to his friend and coworker. “I’ll clean up a bit. You’ve got Danielle, but she’s on break right now and should be back by 7:00 at the latest. Go get yourself sorted in the office. I can stay a few more minutes.”

Jade nods and goes into the back, putting her hair up as she goes. The door jingles and Louis turns, his breath catching in his throat as he sees who it is.

Harry fucking Styles. In this coffee shop. And he definitely recognizes Louis, if the shocked expression on his face is any indication. Louis is almost positive his own face mirrors it. What the fuck is Harry Styles doing in a coffee shop in the middle of London on the night _Kensington Gardens_ is supposed to premiere? There is no reason Louis should be seeing Harry Styles against the backdrop of mustard-yellow walls that are cracking and leak sometimes; there’s no reason he should now associate Harry Styles with the smell of freshly ground coffee beans, or the light drizzle coming through the final remnants of the almost-set sun.

Harry has a friend with him, too. A blonde one. Or, well. It’s dyed blonde, Louis can see his roots peeking through. The friend is still talking and progressing towards the counter, not noticing Harry’s frozen state and, oh, he’s Irish, too. Is this Harry’s boyfriend? Is that what this encounter is going to be like? Louis doesn’t believe in a God but he sends a prayer up anyway because who is it going to hurt. _Please let him be single, I can’t bear to go through the bad meet-my-boyfriend conversation with someone that gave me a hickey I couldn’t stop playing with for weeks._

“Yeah, so, Lou said she had to bleach it for the red dye and they’re gonna give me freckles and everything. Like, I get Cooper’s American and has a ton of stereotypes, but a ginger, freckled Irishman? Really? Why not a brunette. Or just like, me. Just describe me, for fuck’s sake, right?” Louis makes the connection very easily, really, listening as the guy goes on about the new requirements for his new job. This guy is going to be Eoghan. This is too much for the end of his shift on a Friday night. This was supposed to be the best night of his life, and now it’s just stressful. Too stressful. The friend is rambling without Harry next to him, looking up at the menu behind Louis’ head that displays all the different coffee and teas they sell as well as sizes, and some sandwiches. He hopes neither of them want food, he just cleaned out the oven, like, an hour ago.

“Uh, Harry, mate? You comin’ up here or what?” The friend slash Eoghan’s actor calls over to the other side of the shop. Harry is still frozen there, staring at Louis like a deer in headlights. Louis almost laughs at the scenario; as much as he wasn’t expecting to see Harry again, he can’t imagine how much of a shock Louis is to him. It’s comical. Fate has a humor.

Harry’s gaze breaks off from Louis’ own and Louis watches as he shakily nods and walks up.

_Don’t make this awkward, don’t make this awkward, don’t make this awkward…_

“Haven’t seen you in a bit, Vi- Harry.” _Fuck_ , he almost said Victor. He straight up almost said Victor, and if he’s not careful he’ll slip up and Harry will hate him.

“Y-Yeah,” Harry stutters, and the friend looks between the two of them curiously. “Yeah, hi, Louis. This is, ehm, my coworker Niall. Horan.”

Louis smiles at the both of them, and Niall smiles back, even going so far as to offer a hand to shake. Louis takes it and likes his demeanor, and forces himself to not compare Niall to Eoghan in his head. Niall is a real person, not a character. And so is Harry. “Good to meet you, Niall.”

“Yeah, you too, mate! Hey, do you have any good sandwiches here? Hazza wanted some coffee and I’m just along for the ride. Forgot to eat dinner before we left, though.” Niall seems like a chatterbox, and Louis can understand. He’s the same way, after all. They both overshare with no provocation.

Jade comes back from the office then, looking much less worse for wear, her hair up and apron on and shoes tied. She’s such a mousy little thing; Louis loves her. He’s glad she’s not dead. “Thanks for staying, Lou, you’re good to go. Have fun watching your show, I know you’re excited!” Jade waves at him and steps up to the till, asking Niall and Harry what they’d like to drink. Louis is grateful Jade didn’t say which show, but judging by the looks on Harry and Niall’s faces, they both know. Great. This is miserable and embarrassing.

He steps away and goes to the office quickly, wanting to get away from the situation. He takes off his apron and tosses it in the bin in the corner with all the other aprons that need washing. The owner has a bunch of them and sends them off to be washed over the weekend, while the shop is closed. He grabs his wallet and unplugs his phone from the wall, seeing a text from his friend Melonie saying she’s just seen a previewed scene of the show and had he seen it yet? He doesn’t reply, too weirded out about Victor and Eoghan’s actors standing mere feet from him to even think about _Kensington Gardens_. He pockets his belongings, plops his beanie on his head and wraps himself up in his jacket, and goes to leave.

Harry, weirdly enough, stops him with a hand on his shoulder just as he rounds the corner of the counter. “Hey, Louis, wait.” Louis turns to look at him, and oh, bless, Harry doesn’t look prepared for what he’ll say next. Like he just wanted Louis’ attention but didn’t make it quite that far. That’s sweet. “So, I, uh, I remember, when we last met, you were going up north for some _Gardens_ books. I assumed back then you meant gardening and were just a bit too tipsy to say it right, but would I be right in assuming that--”

“Yes. Yeah, I’m a big fan of the books. I’m sorry if it makes it weird. I was going to watch the show tonight, actually…” Louis trails off. Harry’s a smart lad, no point in lying to him. “Congratulations on being cast, by the way.”

“Thanks, I really loved playing Victor. It was definitely challenging for me, I hope I do the character justice for you. And no, not weird.” Harry continues. “We already met before all of that, anyway. Before I was even famous or knew about _Kensington Gardens_. Obviously we didn’t know each other that well, but, still. I,” Harry stops abruptly, growing red in the face, “I remember that night pretty well, actually. I--” He bites his lip and Louis is so endeared, “I really liked that night. With you.”

Louis’ face feels hot and he’s practically melting into the floor. Harry’s hand is still on his shoulder, like he’s forgotten it’s there. “Thanks.” Fuck, that was a weird response. Now Harry thinks he’s a nutjob. “Like, me too. I think about it a lot. My friends kind of -- they make fun of me. Especially because I love _Kensington Gardens_ so much, and Victor, especially, they think it’s _so_ funny you’re playing my favorite character of all time when -- well, you know. These past months since the announcement have been a bit miserable, mate, thanks.” Louis hopes Harry can tell he’s joking.

Harry chuckles a bit and, okay, they’re having an actual conversation. Harry seems to also realize at this moment that his hand is still on Louis’ shoulder and takes it away, instead choosing to run it through his short hair. “Yeah, I can imagine. Um, it’s not really supposed to be a secret, I think, but Niall just got cast as Eoghan a couple weeks ago. We’ve been hanging out to, like, bond before shooting starts next month. Did you...I mean, did you want to, ehm,” Harry struggles to get the words out and, well, Louis can watch the re-run of _Kensington_ tomorrow if he has to.

“I’d love to hang out with you two, Harry.”

Harry looks surprised and a little disappointed as well. Louis wonders if he misread something. “I was actually thinking a date. I was just explaining who Niall was, I didn’t know if you, uh, thought he was my boyfriend or something. He’s not. I’m, uh, definitely single. Obviously if you don’t, ehm, want to go on a date, that’s fine too. No pressure, of course.”

He didn’t think he’d ever say this, but this is so much better than _Kensington Gardens_. He’ll miss the whole fucking season if it means going out on a date with the man in front of him.

“Absolutely! I’d love to go on a date, Harry. We could get dinner or something?” Louis knows he’s smiling right now, his cheeks feel a flush spreading across them. The man before him has haunted Louis for years, now. This is their moment, their reconnection.

They both stare at each other a moment, beaming and starry-eyed, before Harry moves into action. “Great. That’s -- yeah, great, uh, can I -- can I get your number? Please?” Harry’s bringing his phone out of his pocket as he speaks and is already handing it out to Louis, who gladly takes it and types it in. He saves his contact as a football emoji and a middle finger emoji, and throws in the rose emoji for comedic effect.

“Call me. I want that dinner, yeah?” Louis says, and waits for Harry’s response, to see if there was anything more.

“I will. Call you, yeah, definitely. I’m really looking forward to it.” Harry looks like he can’t believe what just happened, and judging by the way Louis’ own heart is racing, he can’t quite wrap his mind around it, either.

“Me, too.”

And Louis walks home in a daze. He doesn’t tell either Zayn or Liam about seeing Harry again; they’d just make fun of him for it, probably.

 

* * *

 

Harry doesn’t call. Not that night, not the next day, not even the next week.

Whatever. Louis probably wouldn’t answer anyway. Not after seeing what Harry did to his poor, darling Victor.

First of all, the eyes. They threw _everything_ off. Every scene Louis had imagined in painstaking detail, and each one required Victor’s beautiful brown eyes. Harry’s bright green eyes threw off everything and sometimes even distracted from the color palette the show was trying to give. The list continues on. Every scene Victor was in, Louis was able to critique. Liam eventually told him to be silent or he would turn it off and delete the recording. Louis reminded him he doesn’t live in their flat and wasn’t allowed, until Zayn threatened to do the same, so Louis kept his critiques to himself.

When Victor was with Jeremiah, they were too handsy. Louis refuses to believe this is just poor writing adaptation, because Cooper is involved in the show’s production. No, Louis is sure it’s to do with actor interpretation. Victor kept touching Jeremiah in every scene they were together, either on the shoulder or the back. Perhaps Harry wanted it to be obvious as to why they would be caught or why Clifford would be worried they would be caught, but to Louis, it was already obvious. Clifford is just a shitbag monarchist who would literally kill innocents at the crown’s expense.

When Victor stumbled upon Jeremiah’s dead body at the end of the episode, too, Clifford standing over him and covered in blood, he immediately blamed Clifford for the death and Louis hates that. In the novel it is so much more drawn out, so much better, so much more painful.  

_Victor rushes over to Jeremiah’s torn body, the scythe that killed him tossed to the side and dripping with Jeremiah’s blood. Jeremiah is still alive, thank God, Victor thinks. He yells at Clifford to go get a doctor; Clifford himself is covered in blood and probably needs aid as well. He probably helped Jeremiah in fending off the sick monster that did this._

_He’s slowly bleeding out, his love’s essence pouring out onto the floor of the stables, a wreck of the man he was. Victor presses a hand to the wound on his love’s belly, hoping to stop the blood from escaping. It seeps over his knuckles._

_“My love,” Jeremiah whispers, reaching his weak and shaking palm up to Victor’s face, “do not cry for me. Please don’t cry, I’m not worthy of your tears, my prince.”_

_“No,” Victor cries out, “you are my love! I will never love another. We will get you help. Clifford, please, go fetch the doctor!” Clifford must be weaker than Victor thought he was as he doesn’t move an inch. Was Clifford cut as well? Was some of that blood his own? Perhaps the sight of so much blood is dizzying to him._

_“You must love again. Do not hold your candle for me, Victor,” Jeremiah says._

_The admission is too much for Victor to bare, and he reaches down and presses their mouths together for the first time. His love breathes his last in his arms. After crying his fill, he turns to Clifford, his best friend. The man who tried to save Jeremiah. Victor owes him such a debt for attempting to help Jeremiah. “Who did this, Clifford? Who killed my love?”_

_Clifford laughs and says “I did it. For the crown. To save you. You and he were going to ruin the crown, the entire monarchy, for being abominations.”_

_Victor cries out in confusion, in the chaos of the stable. Naliah whinnies, scared, at the sound from a few stalls over; she is Jeremiah’s favorite mare. She is heavily pregnant and the smell of blood is probably making her anxious to get out._

_“No!” Victor says, through his sobs. “No!”_

_Clifford just continues to stare at him. “The crown requires us all to make sacrifices for its duty. Consider him your first sacrifice.”_

Infinitely better than Victor rushing into the stable, seeing Jeremiah already dead, and blaming Clifford on first sight. Victor didn’t even spare more than a single look at his lover’s dead body on the floor. Victor and Clifford’s friendship is the framework of the entire first quarter of the book, and between that friendship and his and Jeremiah’s growing love for one another, the murder of the latter made the destruction of the former that much more heartbreaking. Victor lost his love and his friend all at once and Harry didn’t represent that at all.  

Harry fucking _ruined_ Victor’s character. Louis is just petty enough to hope Harry never calls.

  


* * *

 

 

Victor rushes after Astrid in the hallway of Kensington Palace. Waitstaff walk past them, dishes in hand as they prepare for dinner. Victor is in full dining attire, and Astrid is in a gorgeous dress and shawl, the train trailing behind her, her hair in an intricately braided updo with a tiara sparkling in the lights of the hall.

“Astrid, please, I can’t tell you why you can’t be with Clifford but I am begging you to not--”

“Victor, you’re gay.” She hisses out, her face angry. “I love you and you’re my best friend, but you will never fulfill me as my husband. We will make a few heirs and that will be all. I have granted you permission to -- go outside of our marriage, when the time comes. Just grant me the same.”

Louis has to admit, Cara Delevigne does an incredible job portraying Astrid. She gives perfect intonation, she even has a believable accent (to Louis, anyway, he’s sure the Norwegian fans have their complaints), and more to the point, she embodies Astrid in a way Harry cannot embody Victor.

Even right now, Louis has a hard time believing it. This is the finale of _Spring_ , the second season, when Astrid finds out Clifford was the one to murder Jeremiah. Eoghan was introduced in the last episode, Niall’s face painted with freckles and hair dyed red. Costume design did a great job with him. Right now on the screen, Harry is standing too tall, face too determined; Victor should be more stooped, to be on her level. And, okay, so they cast a tall actress, Astrid is pretty short in the books. Louis always imagined Victor as bending over slightly, begging Astrid with his body as well as his words. Harry isn’t doing a good enough job.

“He shouldn’t be stood like that.”

“God, Louis, just shut up and enjoy your show! It’s not all bad, they do pretty well.” Zayn says from his seat at the counter. He’s eating some eggs on toast because it’s the off-pay week and their bills were more than they were last month, so they have to make things stretch more. Louis and Zayn are both set to graduate in the spring, and Louis already has a fairly stable job at a local daycare center now that he’s taking mostly night classes. Zayn is still doing photography but more professionally; he had a show just a few days ago, in fact, where an anonymous benefactor bought the entire collection. Large sums of money deposited at once take one to two weeks to become attainable, apparently. Banks hate the poor.

“He’s ruining _everything_.” Louis whines, huffing and flopping against the back of the couch dramatically. Liam couldn’t come tonight, he had a date with a lovely girl, apparently. Neither Louis nor Zayn know her name.

“He’s not, though. He’s been consistent across two seasons now with his characterization of Victor. I think it has more to do with the director than Harry.” Zayn points out, talking with his mouth full, the bastard.

“Zayn, I love you, but you’re wrong because everything else in this show is amazing. Everything but Harry.”

Louis watches as Astrid stalks away as Victor is unable to tell her why she can’t be with Clifford. Victor’s fist clenches beside him but when a member of the house walks by him, clothing in her hands that need to be washed or need to be put away or whatever, he smiles, clearly fake. And that’s...that’s nice. That was really good, actually, Louis likes that part.

It’s the subtle parts of Harry’s portrayal of Victor that really get to him. The way Harry-as-Victor stands just slightly pigeon-toed when he’s not at the forefront of the scene. The way Harry-as-Victor goes just a bit too doe-eyed whenever Niall-as-Eoghan is around. The way Harry-as-Victor has more looser curls than the uniform curls Louis had imagined up to this point (and Louis will be dead before admitting that he likes that difference).

Harry isn’t completely bad. _Kensington Gardens_ is, so far, an incredible show that sticks really true to the novels, lifting almost the entire dialogue from them. It’s just that Harry isn’t Victor. Harry is...he’s Harry.

Harry is sweet, and kind, and also, right, never fucking called him back. Fuck him.

He sucks as Victor, Louis takes it back.

 

* * *

 

Louis gets a text eight months later from a number he doesn’t recognize. The chirping sound alert had woken him from a deep sleep, and he glances at his clock. It’s three o’clock in the morning, does this fucker have no respect? He reaches up blearily onto his nightstand and grabs his phone. The screen blinds him for a moment when he touches the screen to see who the fuck texted him before the sun was even up.

**Hey sorry to bother you, I just found this contact and don’t recognize it. It’s just a bunch of emojis? Who is this?**

Louis groans, rolling back into his bed, phone in hand. He gets snuggled underneath the blankets, trying to get comfortable again. He knows who it is, of course. He only puts emojis as his name when he’s feeling flirty. Harry probably forgot about it since it’s been almost two years since he’d seen Harry last. That’s almost four years since they’d met. They’ve met twice in person over the span of four years, Louis would hardly say that’s close enough to wake someone up in the middle of the night. Two brief, brief meetings. One a drunken makeout that Louis still thinks about when he wants to get off and what he still compares current fucks to.

Louis hasn’t dated for long periods of time since meeting Harry. He didn’t really date for long periods of time before meeting Harry either, but Louis knows it has to do with Harry. He always looks for what makes them different than Harry. How much shorter they are, how they hold onto him. Harry was the ultimate find and he lost it. Until he didn’t. Their second meeting lasted all of ten minutes and it ruined him.

Whatever, Harry can forget he ever met him for all Louis cares. He flirted with Louis so heavily and Louis was sure he would call, but between Harry dropping him and Harry ruining his favorite character of all time, Louis no longer cares.

**louis tomlinson . 1) its three in the fucking morning i was ASLEEP 2)  delete my contact**

He tosses his phone back up onto his nightstand and rolls over. Moments later, his phone chirps. Then chirps again.

Then it starts _ringing_.

He grumbles to himself as he sits up again against his pillows. If Harry’s going to call him he’s probably not going back to sleep anytime soon. “What part of ‘I was asleep’ did you not understand?” He answers, not bothering to conceal his annoyance with the situation.

“Louis, hey!” Harry is entirely too happy for 3:15 in the morning. “Hey, yeah, sorry, you did just tell me that didn’t you. Sorry, I’m in LA right now. I just -- I thought you didn’t give me your number! I couldn’t find it in my contacts list. Why did you put only emojis?”

“Delete my number. I’m going back to sleep.” Louis hangs up and rolls over.

Until it immediately rings again. He lets it ring out and when it stops ringing he feels successful and tries to get comfortable again to go back to sleep. It rings again. Harry tries four more times, in fact, and Zayn ends up barging in and yells at him to either “Turn it off or answer it, other people live here.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but answers it when Harry tries again, Zayn watching him from the doorway.

“Please don’t hang up.” Harry says first, quick and desperate.

“Delete my number Harry, I’m not interested anymore. You didn’t call. You hurt my feelings.” Louis bites out, trying very hard to not focus on the fact that Zayn’s here. Louis sees Zayn’s eyes widen in shock anyway.

“And I -- look, I’m sorry. Genuinely. Really. I’m sorry. I couldn’t find your number, you saved it in these emojis and I just -- I thought you, like, fake gave it to me? I don’t know, I just. I thought maybe you pretended to type something and then you left and I didn’t want to push it. I’ve been there when someone’s just -- pushing too hard so you make something up just to get out of there and I was so afraid I’d been that person to you so I left you alone. Niall told me I should just go back to the coffee shop but in my head it was like, if you fake gave me your number, would you really appreciate me showing up at your job like that? Right? I wanted to call you. I did. I’m sorry.” Harry breathes all of that out in a rush, and Louis was endeared by how everything Harry says is very train-of-thought and -- well, fuck, he’s still endeared.

Louis sits there in silence, stunned.

“What is he saying? How’d he even get your number?” Zayn whispers and Louis waves his hand at him to shut him up. Louis has no idea what to even say.

Harry ruined Victor but like. How inconsequential is that. Harry isn’t a character.

“Louis?” He hears through the phone. “I know you didn’t hang up but I hope you didn’t mute me. I hope you’re listening. I still want to get dinner. If you’ll have me.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Harry?” Louis asks, cautious. Louis is tempted. Very tempted. Harry isn’t Victor and Louis knows he shouldn’t take it as personal as he does.

“Yes. Louis, there’s a reason I haven’t stopped thinking about you for four years. God, I was eighteen, Louis, with this ridiculous mane of hair and a snapback and you were the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. Still are.”

“You haven’t seen me in two years, Harry, you have no basis for that statement.” Louis points out and Zayn makes a what-the-fuck expression after he does the math in his head.

“I know. There’s no way you’re not the most beautiful boy still. The world would’ve had to fall completely apart and nuclear disaster to have happened for you to stop being beautiful to me.”

“So what you’re saying is if the world goes nuclear then I’m not hot anymore. Looks like I’ll be staying at Niall’s for the apocalypse, then.” Louis jokes and Harry laughs, so, so bright. Zayn still looks so confused.

“Okay, okay. How about I make amends? I’ll be back in London in two days. I will come and pick you up and take you anywhere you want to go, just name it and we’ll go there.”

Louis can hardly stop smiling now. This was so unexpected, his feelings about the conversation included. Was this pathetic? To want Harry so much even now, after not seeing him for so long? Somehow, Louis didn’t care.

“Alright. Somewhere really fuckin’ fancy, mate. I want you to pay up for pain rendered.”

“Done. I’ll pick you up at seven, alright? We’ll go somewhere really nice. Wear whatever you want.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going to take you up on that. I’ll wear my trackies and some Adidas.”

“You’ll look better than anyone else there.”

They hang up after chatting a few more moments, and Louis’ positive his face is bright red. It’s 3:30 now and Zayn looks like he’s dying to ask a million and one questions, but won’t say anything until Louis tells him it’s okay. Zayn’s a good friend like that.

“I didn’t tell you or Liam I met Harry again,” Louis explains to Zayn once he hangs up. “He came into work on the night _Winter_ aired, actually, which was crazy. He was with Niall, and they were doing some bonding to get to know each other before filming began again. He asked me for my number and I put it in his phone and then he -- he never called but it didn’t matter to me because, like I said, _Winter_ aired and I just hated him as Victor. I still do. Fuck, what if he asks me what I think about his portrayal of Victor?”

Louis was fine but now he’s delving slightly into panic. Louis isn’t a very good liar, there’s no way he could lie about something he feels so strongly about.

“Breathe, Louis, fuck,” Zayn reminds him. “You’re honest. I don’t think him being annoyed about the small parts of his acting of a character you’ve analyzed to _death_ is going to bother him so much. He’s an actor professionally, he gets critiqued all the time.”

Louis nods. “I know that. Like, technically. It doesn’t make it any less strange for me.” Louis gets a thought and laughs wildly. “What if I call him Victor on accident? I almost did that once. Do you think he’d back out then?”

Zayn chuckles with him a moment. “Probably not. Like I said, he knows you’re a big fan and that doesn’t bother him.”

“He knows I’m a fan. He doesn’t know I read about the character he plays fucking the character his friend plays.”

Zayn makes a face at that but moves on. “You’re right, he probably doesn’t know that. But even if he did, you’ve been doing that well before he was ever even considered for the role. Before the show was even considered. I don’t really understand it all that much but I’ve been friends with you even before you got into _Kensington Gardens_ and it’s changed you, yeah, but not in a bad way. Now you have a hobby, something to interest you. You’re passionate about it. I can’t imagine Harry would think badly about having opinions in what he also participates in.”

“Why are you always so smart.” Louis puts in, feeling a bit pathetic and a lot tired. Zayn pulls him in for a hug, smelling slightly of cigarettes. Fuck, he could go for a smoke. He’s feeling jittery and needs to chill out.

His phone rings again and Louis pulls back, grabbing the phone. It’s Harry calling again. Zayn motions for him to answer it.

“So, I don’t actually have your address...” Harry begins.  


* * *

 

 

“I don’t look stupid, do I?” Louis asks, walking into the kitchen where Zayn is eating macaroni and cheese.

“Do I look like a fashion consultant?” Zayn asks, mouth full, like he doesn’t know he’s the most effortlessly beautiful person Louis knows.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s rude.” Louis says, turning to look at himself in the mirror they have hung up in the hallway. His hair’s kind of all over the place but he feels like he remembers Harry telling him he liked how soft his hair was all those years ago in that bar in Stirling, so he didn’t style it.

“You’re wearing trousers I have only ever seen you wear to a club and a nice shirt. Don’t know what else to say, mate, other than you look nice and so does your arse.”

Louis eyes Zayn over his shoulder in the mirror and Zayn just gives him a very sarcastic thumbs up. “So much enthusiasm.” Louis gives himself another lookover, fixing the denim jacket around his shoulders because he doesn’t know if it’ll be cold in the restaurant or not. He doesn’t even know where they’re going. Louis knows he jokingly told Harry to take him somewhere really expensive, but he’s secretly hoping he doesn’t because Louis doesn’t know what he’d do. He really doesn’t. He’s just a footie lad obsessed with fictional royalty.

His phone chirps, Harry letting him know he’s outside and to come down whenever he’s ready. Zayn tells him to have fun and use protection, blah, blah. Louis flips him off as he walks out. Harry is outside the door to the building when Louis gets downstairs. Louis lets out a sigh of relief when he sees Harry is dressed in similar clothing to his own. Harry did say he didn’t care what Louis wore, but to know that Harry isn’t going to be taking him anywhere that requires a dress code is nice.

Harry’s not wearing a denim jacket but he is wearing a jacket, which means they’re going somewhere that’ll probably be cold. He’s also wearing some dark wash jeans, but instead of a band shirt he’s got on a button up that hasn’t quite managed to get buttoned up entirely. Very on brand for Harry, then.

Harry smiles big for him when he lays his eyes on Louis. They’ve been talking a lot over the phone the past two days and seeing each other in person for the first time in two years is -- it’s a lot. Harry’s somehow gotten taller, for one. Louis couldn’t tell that from the television screen. Louis feels like when they kiss he’ll have to jump up and get Harry to hold him around his waist just to meet his mouth. One day, Louis would like to meet his mouth.

Harry looks him up and down. Quite boldly, Louis would like to add. Louis doesn’t mind.

“Heeeey.” Harry says, attempting to look annoyed, but Louis can see the traces of a smile left in his face. “We match. One of us is going to have to change.”

“Honestly, Harold, I thought you were an actor. Try better.” Louis says, but he’s smiling, too.

“Ouch. That hurt.” Harry presses a hand to his heart as he begins walking backwards towards the car park that belongs to the building. “Wounded, I am.”

It’s all very comedic. Louis rolls his eyes and then, of course, Harry trips over nothing at all and Louis has to grab him before he falls on his arse. He only manages to grip onto Harry’s arm but the momentum already began and he tumbles down, Louis holding onto him tight.

“Wounded, you sure are.” Louis laughs as he helps Harry back up. He brushes himself off and Louis tries hard not to focus on how large those hands are. God, he’ll never get over those hands, will he?

 

* * *

 

They ended up not going to dinner. They did get food from a local vendor, but after that, they drove and drove and drove. At one point Louis looked behind them in the mirror and could only barely make out the London skyline and lights.

“I’ve got some snacks in the trunk,” Harry says after a few minutes of silence. “I thought we could go stargazing in a good spot I know. I’ve also bought blankets and hats and bigger coats in case it gets too cold, and, y’know, when it gets _really_ miserable we’ll just leave.”

Who is this man. Truly.

“Who are you?” Louis asks incredulously.

This is a scene, literally, straight out of _Kensington Gardens_ . In the middle of _Summer,_ Eoghan takes Victor out to a field and they stargaze all night, getting closer and closer. It’s only a few nights before their first kiss, before their true confession. That night they talk about Jeremiah and Victor comes clean that Clifford is Jeremiah’s murderer, and he also tells Eoghan why. It’s the first night in the series that Victor tells anyone about Jeremiah since the murder. It’s also the first night Eoghan touches him. Just a simple hand-holding, and then hugging as Victor cries out his frustrations.

_“You can be free to love again, you know.” Eoghan says. “Maybe not right now. Maybe not in years. You may not know when you’ll be ready mentally, but you are allowed to be happy, your highness.”_

_“Please just call me Victor when we’re alone.” Victor asks. “Please. That would make me happy right now.”_

_“Alright, Victor. You’re allowed love, Victor. You are deserving of love, Victor.”_

_The sky is their awning. They’re alone in the middle of a midnight country field, so far removed from everything else. Victor believes him._

It’s one of the most pivotal scenes in _Summer_ , actually. It’s when Victor starts to accept Jeremiah as his first love but that he’s lost forever, and it’s when Victor begins to realize he can retaliate against Clifford.

Is Harry doing this on purpose? Or does he just really like stars?

“I know you’re a big fan of _Kensington Gardens_ and I am too, obviously. The stargazing scene is probably my favorite from _Summer_. I know it’s not really similar, but I had a hard time coming to grips with being bisexual growing up, and reading ‘you’re allowed love’ was moving for me. Figured we should see how magical it is.”

Louis could cry. Fuck, he thinks he is crying.

“That’s--” Definitely crying, “That’s so sweet. Thanks for sharing that, first, I know how hard that is. I love footie and sports but also being gay and effeminate and into books made it hard for those two parts of myself to coincide so I can relate, albeit in a different way. I’d love to go see some stars with you.”

They don’t kiss that night, just like Eoghan and Victor didn’t kiss. Louis and Harry don’t hold hands, either, but they do curl up into each other as they looked up high above them, trying to make sense of the mad universe around them.

 

* * *

 

“You got me tickets to _what_?” Louis yells. Or, well, asks loudly. He hopes he’s not yelling because they’re in public and while Harry hasn’t ever said anything explicitly, Louis can tell he doesn’t like attention being drawn to himself. The show is even more popular than the books ever have been and while Harry was famous before, he’s a household name now. Everyone knows who Prince Victor of Wales is thanks to Harry. They’re in a grocery store right now and luckily nobody else is in the aisle with them.

He and Harry have been actively dating for just a hair over three months now. It’s been a crazy whirlwind for them both. Louis has had to get used to sharing a boyfriend with the world as well as deal with the fact that his fellow _Kensington Gardens_ fans openly draw porn of Harry (okay, Victor, but it’s Harry’s _face_ ). And, like, Louis gets it, he does. He was participating in those same behaviours before he met Harry. That doesn’t mean he has to like seeing his boyfriend’s face photoshopped on a porn model.

“To the premiere of _Summer_. The show’s gotten enough traction and hype they’re actually having a premiere for it.” Harry’s pushing the cart along and grabbing some lentils to toss in the basket. “But, they’re showing the entire season at the premiere, so. I figured you’d like to go. Like, not only as a fan, but with me.” Harry pauses, both in speech and in his steps. “As my boyfriend. Publically.”

Oh. _Oh._ That was so much different than Louis imagined.

“Like, in front of cameras?” Louis asks, and they both begin walking down the aisle again. This would be a huge jump for him. He’s fairly well-known within the fandom, but only by his online pseudonym. Nobody would know it was him. But he would see friends of his blogging about him, cropping pictures of him. What if they begin photoshopping him and Harry together in sex positions? Or worse, what if they arbitrarily hate him?

“Yes, I’m sorry. It’s not ideal but, I mean, this is my life. I’d like to keep you in it.”

A box of cereal goes in the cart. “You would?” Louis is almost breathless and Harry stops walking again, turning to look at Louis. He’s smiling but only just so, like he doesn’t think he’s allowed to smile all the way just yet. “Really? Even though I’m a fan of the show and the books and the character you play and I’ve seen your head photoshopped on a porn model?”

Harry laughs loudly, having to slap a hand over his mouth. “The difference is that you’re not a fan of _me_ . You’re a fan of Victor.” Harry gets a contemplative look on his face and then he smirks. “Is _that_ why you’re with me? I can’t believe it took me so long to figure out.” He laughs.

Louis rolls his eyes and slaps Harry on the shoulder gently, laughing gently.  “You know that’s not it, shut up.”

“Do you dream about calling me Victor in bed?” Harry is clearly finding all of this too funny, his eyes are filled with mirth and he can’t stop laughing through his words. “Should I call you Eoghan? Would you do an Irish accent in bed?”

Now this was edging into dangerous territory. Not because Harry was getting close, not at all, but sex-oriented conversations mixed with old nans at the shops in the middle of the day never end well.

“Oh, Victor!” Harry laughs out, trying to deepen his voice and make it sound sexy and failing. Louis is laughing and trying to get him to be quiet, shushing him loudly. “Oh, Eoghan! Yes! Right there! _Harder_ , please!”

“Shut _up_ , Harry.” Louis says gleefully, reaching up and covering Harry’s mouth with his hand. Harry, the absolute fucker, grabs Louis’ wrist and licks his palm. Like he’s five years old. “Oi!”

Harry’s mouth lands on his own and Louis sways into it. They haven’t really ever gone past kissing and so talking, even jokingly, about the two of them in bed together is a lot for Louis. Harry’s still got such a solid grip on Louis’ wrist and it makes him feel just a little weak. What makes it worse ( _much better_ , Louis’ mind supplies) is that Harry is such an insistent kisser. He immediately takes over the kiss, pressing hard and causing Louis to bend backwards with the force of it, almost. It always reminds Louis of when they kissed in the back of that bar, the way Harry pressed hard into him.

Louis would like more than just kissing but he’s not going to push it.

“You’re such an incredible kisser, _Victor_.” Louis says when they pull apart, purposefully breathy and obnoxious. Harry laughs again and their brief moment is lost to their joking once more. They hold hands the rest of the shopping trip, sneaking kisses and glances the entire time.

Louis loves that he has someone in his life he can joke around with this much. His previous relationships have always been too short, just a few months long, and never had this much fun in them. They were too focused on just sex, or going on so many dates Louis no longer found them fun. He can easily see this turning into something great.

 

* * *

 

“Louis, Harry Styles is here to see you.” Perrie says, her face bright red and clearly flustered. “He says he’s your boyfriend. Louis, is this a prank?”

Louis turns to look at her from the messy diaper he’s busy changing. His shift isn’t over for another twenty minutes and he knows Harry knows that. Regardless, Harry said he wouldn’t see him until the premiere next week, so why is he here?

“He is my boyfriend, Pez.” Louis says as he returns his attention to the fussy baby on the changing table in front of him. “I met him a few years ago, but we only started dating recently. It’s definitely not a prank, although if it was, I would not choose to prank you while changing a baby’s dirty diaper.”

“Right.” Perrie replies, her voice clearly disbelieving and shocked. “Harry Styles is your boyfriend. Of course he is.”

Louis, despite himself, sometimes forgets how famous Harry is. He knows, obviously, but after being with just Harry for so long and not having to overtly deal with Harry Styles, Famous Actor, he’s simply forgotten. He hasn’t been going online as much anymore, either, since dating Harry. Seeing his face everywhere just ended up being too much for Louis to handle. He still reads fanfiction, participates in certain discussions, and communicates with his friends, but almost solely on a book basis. Anyone that he follows that is mainly focused on the show he’s unfollowed or muted so he won’t have to see picture after manip after fanart of Harry and Niall together. And, obviously they’re not Harry and Niall in these scenarios, but he can’t not see Harry and Niall in these discussions anymore.

It’s all very weird.

“Just tell him I’ll be off at 5:00, and remind him he knows when I work.” Louis requests, buttoning up the baby’s onesie and tickling their soft little belly. The baby giggles, kicking out, and Louis picks them up to place them back in their baby swing.

“Sure,” Perrie says, disbelief coloring her tone. “Just go tell Harry bloody Styles his boyfriend will be off in twenty. Alright!” She’s still muttering to herself as she walks back to the welcoming desk on the other side of the building. Louis finds it very amusing.

He helps with getting the older children packed up and ready for their parents to pick them up. The wave of parents began around an hour ago but the mass of them came just around five and up through six. Louis always leaves at five, though, since he’s there so early in the morning. It’s usually Perrie and Leigh-Anne that facilitate the pick-up process.

When he leaves, he sees Harry’s Range Rover in the car park. Louis knocks on the window when he gets to the passenger door and Harry unlocks the door for him, and when Louis is seated all the way, he leans over the console for a kiss.

“Thought I’d surprise you, take you out somewhere special.” Harry says to him, starting up the car. Louis hasn’t stopped smiling since seeing his boyfriend.

“Yeah, sounds good. Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Harry’s smile is sweet, dimples out in full force, and Louis wonders how he got so lucky.

They end up driving further into London than Louis is normally comfortable going. It’s too posh in this area for his liking, too many rich people with too many pretentious coats. It’s August, for fuck’s sake, calm down with the faux mink sweaters.

“Where are we going?” Louis asks when Harry parks outside Kensington Palace. Louis is pretty sure he already knows where they’re going and he can’t help but smile.

Louis has come down here frequently since getting into _Kensington Gardens_ , just to check out authenticity on certain things. Cooper is an American and he did a fairly decent job, actually, on description of the buildings and where certain rooms are. Louis has also been to the gardens themselves on many occasions, just to walk around and get a feel for how Victor and Eoghan would have stolen themselves away. The gardens are public and often flooded with visitors and tourists, but Louis tries to imagine them as they would have been at the turn of the century. Nobody around except for a few gardeners. The perfect hiding place, right in plain sight.

“I thought you might like to see what I found in the gardens when I was here last week.” Harry says, reaching his hand out for Louis to hold onto as they walk. Louis gladly takes it.

It’s a nice day out, clear skies for once and a gentle breeze coming through the trees lining the green. Harry has them walk past the water features and flower beds, past all the tourists taking pictures and all the other couples around them. Cooper’s description of the gardens is not very accurate, unlike the buildings. He always wrote the gardens as having far more trees and buildings than they do in reality, where there’s more water features and pathways. There’s a lot of physical artwork on display, monuments and sculptures that they admire as they walk past.

Being here with Harry is a completely different experience. Louis always stuck to the paths the whole way around, but Harry leaves them just as soon as they get to the Serpentine. Over on this side of the gardens, Louis can see why Cooper may have thought all the gardens were filled with trees and gazebos, because out here it truly is almost nothing but trees. The royal summer house is out here somewhere, if Louis’ memory serves him correctly.

Harry stops where he’s walking and motions for Louis to turn around.

“Why?” Louis asks, just a bit suspicious but mainly amused. Harry just smiles at him.

“Just humor me.” He says, and Louis does. Harry wraps something around his eyes so he can’t see and ties it around his head. “I want it to be a surprise and I don’t trust you to not peek. If it gets too tight let me know.”

Louis doesn’t bother telling Harry he can see fine through the thin material. Not perfectly, but pretty fine. Louis wants to be a good sport, though, so he shuts his eyes.

“What did you put around my head? Is this a tie? Oh, _Mr. Grey_ , full of surprises.” Louis teases and he hears Harry huff a laugh behind him.

“No, no, not a tie. I had a thing for headscarves when my hair was longer, used them all the time to keep my hair out of my face. This is an Alexander McQueen, so please don’t trip or something and dirty it.”

“Oi!” Louis protests. “You’re gonna make it so I can’t see and then demand I don’t trip? Cheeky.”

“You’re the one that’s tied up. I make the demands.”

They walk for a few more minutes and Louis is sure that at some point Harry gets turned around because, really, the gardens aren’t _that_ large, surely they’d have found it before now. But then they slow down and Harry begins speaking again.

“I was out here a few weeks ago for a bit of inspiration with Niall and Cara. We begin shooting _Fall_ in a few weeks and we decided to come visit together. We’ve all been here of course, during school trips or something, but not since joining the show, so we thought it was a great idea. And we stumbled upon something I think you’ll really like.” Harry is saying, leading Louis through the grass.

“That’s nice but if this ends up being a joke and you make me walk through dog shite I will take my sneaker off and shove it in your face.” Louis deadpans. Harry laughs loudly like he always does at Louis’ jokes.

“I’m trying to be romantic here! Stop ruining it.” He protests.

“Romantic? Making it so I can’t see is romantic, now?”

Harry stops him at that point and Louis feels him close, his mouth right next to Louis’ ear. “It definitely can be, if you’d be interested.” He says. Louis shivers and that effectively shuts him up for the next few minutes of Harry leading him around.

“Alright, we’re here.” Harry’s hands begin fiddling around with the knots at the back of Louis’ head and the fabric slides down around Louis’ neck once it’s loose. He squints a little at the sudden brightness but his eyes are quick to adjust and he can’t -- he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing in front of him.

There’s a huge oak towering in front of him, the leaves swaying in the late summer breeze and the bright leaves rustling. The branches on the left side of the tree reach over a smaller gazebo. It’s nothing ornate, it’s not octagonal or elaborate like in the books, but it’s -- Louis is going to cry.

“Harry,” Louis says, his voice breaking. He doesn’t know what else to say. Harry comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and resting his chin against the side of Louis’ head.

“It was installed just last year specifically for _Kensington Gardens_. The show, I mean, not, like --”

“I got it, Harry,” Louis laughs. This is too surreal.

“Right. They installed it as like an interactive art piece or something. It’s just a gazebo, really, but I thought it was nice and you’d like to see it.”

Louis turns in Harry’s arms, facing him. He reaches his hands up and holds onto Harry’s face to bring him down for a kiss. It’s a gentle one but Louis tries to put all of his emotions into it, all of his love and happiness.

“I feel weird that you think the only way to woo me is with _Kensington Gardens_ references.” Louis says after a few moments. “I know you know I’m not with you for your job. Why do you keep doing things like this? I’d be happy with dinner and a movie, or being at home with you, or doing something crazy like rollerblading or bungee jumping.”

Harry shrugs. “You love _Kensington Gardens_. It’s been a huge part of you for years. You find it romantic, and I want to do romantic things for you. You just made my job really easy, actually.” Harry and Louis are smiling and Louis pulls him down for another kiss.

“Well,” Louis says, then kisses him again because he can’t stay away for too long, “you just managed to woo me, I think.”

“You think?” Harry laughs, kissing him. “Does this mean we can finally fuck? Have I done enough yet?”

“Like you weren’t the one to say you wanted to take it slow.”

“I wanted to create suspense! I heard from some magazine that it’s better to wait longer for sex. Makes the experience even more amazing.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to wait a little bit longer then.” Louis’ eyes twinkle and he smirks. Louis pulls Harry down towards him. They don’t stay in the gardens for much longer.  


* * *

 

 

Harry can’t even wait for the car to come to a complete stop before he’s at Louis’ neck.

“Harry, park the fuckin’ car or you are _not_ coming in this arse tonight.”

Harry pulls back, parks and turns off the car, and stares at him.

“What?” Louis asks.

“You’d let me do it bare?” Harry is dumbfounded. He also looked glassy eyed and _definitely_ turned on. “You’d let me come in you? Fill you up?”

How is Harry capable of saying this so blatantly? Louis shifts a little in his seat, licking his lips.

“Not in this car, I wouldn’t.” He says, opening the door and getting out. Louis hasn’t been to Harry’s house too many times; it’s too out of the way and with Louis’ work schedule versus Harry’s more open schedule, it’s just easier to go to Louis’ flat. He’s familiar with Harry’s house, definitely, and knows where he needs to go. “So if you’d like to fill me up with your come or whatever the fuck you fantasize about these days, I’d recommend you get a move on.”

Louis walks towards the house without looking back and feels only a hair more powerful than before. Just a smidgen. It won’t go to his head, he’s sure.

He hears Harry get out of the car and slam the door behind him. Louis doesn’t have to look back to know Harry is walking towards him with determination, and Louis quickens his steps just enough to get to the door before Harry does. Except, the door is locked and Louis has to wait until he catches up. Harry lines up behind him, moving so close he presses Louis into the door, and Louis can _feel_ how hard Harry is.

They’ve made out before. Louis isn’t unfamiliar with Harry’s cock per se, he’s had it pressed up against him many times, but never like this. Not with intent. Not with the knowledge that that same cock is going to be shoved inside of him, and soon.

Louis is already breathless and Harry hasn’t even opened the bloody door.

Harry kisses him softly, just behind his left ear, and Louis subconsciously tilts his head to accommodate the action. He hears the jingling of keys and then feels the brush of Harry’s arm against his own, but his eyes are closed and he’s out of his mind horny and doesn’t realize the door is opening until it’s too late and he loses the surface he was pressed against. He tilts forward, gasping for breath, but Harry catches him.

“‘Is there nothing you can do that’s actually graceful?’” Harry quotes, and the moment is lost.

“I swear to God, Harry, I do _not_ want to roleplay as Eoghan and Victor with you. Not right now, not ever. I can’t possibly think of anything less sexy than being called Eoghan in bed.” Louis says, turning to look at him again as Louis walks backwards further into the house. There’s a staircase opposite the front door, one that separates into two halfway up. Harry’s bedroom is on the left side of the house. Louis also knows there’s a few guest bedrooms on the right side of the house. Louis stops walking.

He wants to play a game.

“Hey,” Louis starts, trying to remember his drama classes from uni, “I, uh, I get pretty out of it during sex.” One of the main rules of acting is to pull a truth from yourself to the character. “I need you to take care of me during it.”

Harry also stops walking, and is now looking at him like Louis is one of the eight wonders of the world.

“Of course, baby.” He sounds dumbstruck again. “Of course I’ll take care of you. Give you anything you want.”

This is perfect. Louis has to stop himself from smirking and instead smiles gently. “I want snacks. And water. For after.”

Harry’s nodding before Louis is even done speaking, and Louis watches as Harry moves towards himself and grabs his face, hauling him in for a bruising kiss. “Of course.” He says. “Anything. Everything.”

They stay like that for a few minutes until Louis pushes him away. He wants to _play_ and he won’t get a chance to if Harry keeps pushing him like this.

“I want snacks, Harry. Good ones. And plenty of water. I expect to need them afterwards, too. I expect to be tired out.” Louis is being more coy than he would normally be, and he’s loving it. Harry is eating it up, too, if his blown out pupils are any indication.

“Alright. In return, you’re going to wait for me in my bed. I want your clothes folded and you naked, being patient, not touching or moving. Can you do that for me?”

Louis smiles at that. Harry wants to play, too, then. This is perfect.

“Yes.” Louis makes sure to flutter his eyelashes. Harry can’t resist that and brings Louis in for another deep kiss before going to the kitchen. Louis starts walking up the staircase and waits for Harry to be out of eyesight before taking off his trousers and leaving them on the staircase. Harry said he wants the clothes folded in his room, and for Louis to be in his bed. Louis is going to break those rules.

He leaves his shirt just outside the door to Harry’s room, along with a single sock. He then rushes to the other side of the staircase, glancing towards the kitchen to make sure Harry isn’t out yet. He goes down the right side of the house, trying to decide which guest room he wants to hide in. How long he wants to make Harry work for him. Louis decides on the very last room and steals inside it, shutting the door firmly and quietly. He takes off the rest of his clothes in silence, folding the pants and singular sock in silence. He can’t hear much of anything from the other side of the house, so he sneaks over to the door, prying it open. Louis is lucky the door doesn’t squeak.

He peeks out and hears Harry climbing up the stairs. Louis’ breath rushes out in the excitement, and adrenaline rushes through his veins. He can’t remember the last time he enjoyed sex this much, and Harry has barely even touched him at all today. He’s so hard, his cock is straining and aching for attention, but Louis ignores it. He doesn’t want to think about what Harry would do if Louis broke three rules after already breaking two of them.

Is it too much to hope for a spanking? Fuck, they really should have discussed this before getting into it. Too late now. Louis knows Harry would stop the second Louis asked him to, and vice versa. Louis trusts Harry with all of this, with all of him.

Louis can hear the moment that Harry finds the trousers. He hears Harry’s footsteps cease, and it’s like a fucking pin could drop on Harry’s carpeted floors and it would still be heard.

“Baby?” Harry calls out and Louis has butterflies battering around in his stomach. He’s so excited he could be sick. The anticipation is killing him. “What did I say to do with your clothes?” Harry’s words are steel-cut and hard. _God_ , Louis wants to get spanked.

Harry sighs when he finds the shirt and sock outside of his room. “You know,” he starts, “this isn’t you being good for me. I got you snacks and water, and you--”

Harry pauses and Louis smiles. He’s walked into his bedroom, then.

“Baby?” Harry says again, calling out around him. Louis can hear that he’s caught on. “Where are you hiding?” Harry doesn’t exactly sound opposed to playing this game, either. Harry’s voice gets closer and Louis shuts the door completely, turning the knob so the snick of the latch doesn’t sound, and he presses his ear to the door to listen instead.

Louis hears Harry open the door to the guest bathroom and then the door to the coat closet, as if that would be a good hiding place. Harry must know Louis is listening in, though, and this is just a big game to edge Harry on. Now Harry is trying to play Louis right back. He opens the door to the first guest room.

“Are you in here?” Louis hears, and then that door shuts.

There’s only one other door for Harry to try before he realizes where Louis is. Louis rushes over to the bed as quiet as he can and sits down. Then Louis reconsiders, and kneels at the base. No, too subservient for Louis’ tastes. He kneels on the bed and stays there, comfortable but still.

Louis listens and sits quietly and impatiently as the door across the hall is closed, followed by three footsteps, and Louis knows that Harry knows where Louis is. Louis can’t stop the urge to fidget but he stays still. He’s already broken two rules and he will not break three.

Harry opens the door and Louis loses all the breath he had. Harry’s jaw is set, his eyes like iron, determination locked into every part of his body. He walks into the room, looking at Louis and then at the chest of drawers beside him where Louis has placed his folded clothes, tidy.

“I thought I told you to wait in my bedroom, naked, in my bed, with _all_ of your clothes folded and put away.” Harry returns his gaze to Louis once the door is shut.

Louis can hardly breathe because he’s so exhilarated. Harry progresses towards the foot of the bed, his big hands unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it onto the floor, an afterthought.

“And yet here you are, in the guest room, with half your clothes strewn all over my house while I went and got you nice things. Did I misspeak when I gave you directions?” Harry asks.

Louis shakes his head. This is new territory. He doesn’t know what Harry wants exactly. Nothing very drastic is going to happen without prior discussion, he’s sure, and Harry is going to guide him through what he wants. So for now, Louis stays silent.

“Speak, Louis. I’d like you to respond to my questions.” Harry says. _Okay_.

“No, you did not misspeak.” Louis’ voice is only just above a whisper. He’s so nervous.

“I need to hear you.”

Louis takes a deep breath and tries again, at a normal tone. “No, you did not misspeak.”

“No who, baby?”

This is definitely unmarked territory for Louis. There are quite the number of names one could call their dom -- master and owner, both of which are way out of Louis’ comfort zone. He feels quite confident in thinking neither of those are what Harry is looking for. Calling him by his name could also be applicable, but he feels Harry is looking for a title. Dom is too simple. Sir and Daddy are what’s left in Louis’ repertoire and Louis is struggling to choose between the two. Louis doesn’t mind a daddy kink per se, but it’s not his go-to.

“No, daddy?” Louis tries and it’s obvious when the phrasing sounds more like a question, like Louis is testing it out. Louis sees Harry smile.

“Sir will suffice. I’m not exactly into that.” Harry’s brow then furrows and his posture relaxes, indicating a pause in their game. “Are you? Because we can. I’m not opposed, but it’s not my favorite. I can play Daddy if you want.”

Harry is far too eager to please, but Louis finds it hot so it doesn’t matter.

“No, no, it’s not my favorite either. I was guessing.” Louis replies, and he’s glad Harry is also a bit lost in this and trying to piece things together. “We probably should have talked about this but I was so excited to just -- start, y’know?”

Harry nods. “I know. It was the same for me. I’ll go over my hard stops here and you should too, and give me your safeword. And then we’ll start again. Sound good?”

Louis nods.

“Alright,” Harry begins. “I don’t do piss play. We already covered daddy kink, so that’s that. I don’t do anything to do with ageplay. I think it’s pedophilic in nature and gross. I don’t do animal roleplay. I won’t choke you, but I can pretend to, if you really want.”

Louis shakes his head no to that.

“Okay,” Harry continues. “Power imbalance roleplay, like a teacher/student relationship, are completely out for me. Consent is extremely important in my sex life as it should be for everyone, and while I thrive off of being a dom and that in a way is a power imbalance, I think something like a teacher/student, or a coach/player, or a boss/employee, or anything of that nature is wrong. Consent can’t really come from someone who is being asked by someone in charge of them, and I’m not really in charge of you in your normal life so this power imbalance is only a partial one. I won’t play with you while you’re intoxicated, either, because that’s too much for you. And lastly, I don’t like sharing. There will be no one else in our relationship but us. How does all of that sound?”

Louis feels like a bobblehead with how much he nods along to what Harry’s saying.

“That sounds perfect,” he says. “Only thing I may add is that I don’t want to play all the time. Sometimes I’ll want, like, regular sex. And I don’t mind being tied up but not with ropes, I like soft things, fabrics. I’ve never tried handcuffs before.”

Harry nods. “Sounds good. And your safeword?”

“I typically use the stoplight system, but if that doesn’t work for you I can come up with a word?” Louis asks, and sees Harry shake his head.

“No, if something happens, God forbid, you need to use whatever you’re already familiar with. I like the stoplight system anyways, that way we can pause or slow down and gauge where to go further rather than the safeword stopping the entire scene. Safewords are obviously still a good system, but I prefer the stoplight system myself.” Harry replies, then takes a deep breath. “Okay, anything else to add?”

Louis bites his lip. “I like to be spanked.” Louis looks down at the floor, his cheeks red. “And I meant it, earlier, what I said. I get out of my head during sex and I need you to take care of me. I can’t always follow directions when I get like that. Me coming in this room was on purpose to be bad, but sometimes I’ll get out of it and can’t do what you ask. Does that make sense?”

Harry’s eyes light up. “Yes. I’ll keep that in mind. Are we ready?”

“Last question. I do get really hungry after sex. And I know you went in the kitchen…” It’s not a real question but Harry understands anyways.

“I left them in my room. I have a feeling we’re going to mess these sheets up, and I’d prefer we do the cool-down on a clean bed, so I’ll take you there after. Is that okay?”

Louis nods.

“Okay. So I’ll ask you again, Louis, one more time. No who?”

“No, sir, you did not misspeak.”

“Then you blatantly ignored my instructions. You were bad, Louis.” Harry’s hands go towards his belt, and it snaps when he pulls it out. Louis shivers. They probably won’t edge into _that_ territory tonight, but Louis hopes they will eventually. “Do you know what happens to boys that don’t listen? Answer out loud.”

Louis loves that Harry gives him blatant instructions. “They get punished, sir.” A thrill shoots up his spine.

“That’s right, Louis, they do.” Harry drops his trousers and pants in one go and Louis can’t help but stare. Harry is -- he’s big. He’s _big_. He’s so big that Louis can tell that he’s hard but his cock is hanging heavy between his legs. “And do you know what that punishment consists of?”

Oh, God, Louis can only hope. “Spankings, sir?”

Harry smiles. “Good. That’s correct.” Harry peels off his socks and then sits down on the edge of the bed next to Louis. “You want to lay over my lap or am I going to have to make you?”

Louis hurries to lay down over Harry’s lap, eager to please him.

“Good boy.” Harry says, and he lays a heavy hand over the back of Louis’ neck, helping him to adjust to a more comfortable position. Harry’s other hand lays on the swell of Louis’ arse and Louis can’t help but fidget. “I see you’re squirming. Normally I wouldn’t allow it, but today I will because you’re not kicking up a fuss about your punishment. You’re getting twenty today. Does that sound alright?”

“Yes, sir.” Louis isn’t the most comfortable he’s ever been in his life, over the knee of his boyfriend, but he definitely doesn’t mind.

“Good. Count out loud with me, or I’ll start over.”

That’s new to Louis. No other guy who’s dommed him before has done that. Louis gets so out of it, out of his head, that he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to do so. But, that’s the challenge, isn’t it?

“Yes, sir.”

 _Thwack_! Harry’s hand comes down, sharp and biting against the meat of him. Louis moans out first at the feeling, then at the way Harry grabs onto the thickness of his arse cheek.

“One.” Louis huffs. God, he’s got nineteen more of these to go.

Two more come down on him in quick succession, on opposite cheeks, and Louis chokes out their numbers after a moment. Harry goes in at a different angle for the third, and then _nails_ him with the fourth and fifth ones. One thing Harry does let him do that Louis appreciates is to take a few moments after each one, or each set of multiples, for Louis to catch his breath. Harry doesn’t make him count out immediately as the spanks happen. Louis’ head is already starting to get dizzy, though, and he’s not sure how much longer he can even keep up with that for.

By the time spank twelve rolls around, Louis wants to cry. By the time Harry’s right hand leaves Louis’ neck and instead reach to separate Louis’ cheeks from each other and the left hand spanks right onto Louis’ hole, Louis is crying, desperately.

“Fifteen,” Louis cries, “ _please_ , Harry, fuck.” Louis doesn’t even know what he’s asking for at this point. Anything.

Harry lets go of his cheeks and lets them smack back together on their own. Sixteen and seventeen are at once, with both of his hands.

“God, baby, I wish you could see yourself.” Listening to Harry talk to him after so much silence is almost too much. Louis cries harder, the desperation welling up inside of him almost too much. Harry grabs onto his arse, shaking it a bit. He’s so hard and has been for half an hour now, and he hasn’t been touched. He’s been _good_ , he hasn’t touched. “Your arse is just fucking perfect, baby. It’s all red for me. It’s the perfect size and fits right,” Harry smacks him again. Eighteen, “in the palm of my hand. I can’t wait to get my cock in here. Get you stuffed full, angel.”

 _Smack_! Nineteen.

Only this time, Louis comes. It’s powerful, rocking his entire body, and it lasts absolute ages. Louis’ head can’t stop spinning. He’s rutting against Harry’s lap the entire time, moaning and whining. Louis can hear Harry murmuring to him but what the words are, he has no idea. He feels his body being picked up and laid down against the cool sheets, and he can feel what he guesses are kisses along his face and neck.

“Baby, darling, you were so good for me,” Louis hears in clarity after a couple minutes. “So good. You did so well.” Harry comes into focus as Louis opens his eyes again blearily. Louis can feel that his tear tracks have made his face stiff.

“I didn’t do twenty.” Louis says, soft. His voice breaks in the middle, which isn’t something he’s done in years. “I’m sorry.”

Harry’s face softens at that. “You don’t have to be sorry, darling. You still did so well, you counted every single one out loud like I asked, and then you came without even being touched. That,” a kiss on Louis’ brownbone, “was,” cheekbone, “beautiful,” and one the edge of his mouth, “and I’m proud of you.”

Louis hiccups. “I want--” He doesn’t know if he can request things. Harry doesn’t seem like the kind of dom to be opposed to their sub requesting things. “I still want you to fuck me. Please.”

Harry kisses him square on the mouth at that. “Anything for you.” Harry rearranges them so that Louis is situated more in the center of the bed. “Front or back?” Harry asks, and Louis doesn’t quite knowing what he’s talking about for a moment before it occurs to him.

“Back. I like seeing you.” Louis says, and Harry smiles at him. Louis’ breathing hasn’t quite gotten back to normal and he doesn’t see it returning anytime soon.

Harry shuffles until he’s got Louis’ legs spread slightly. He then reaches over to the nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube, and Louis huffs out a laugh. Harry snicks the bottle open, looking at him as he gets his fingers wet. “What’s so entertaining?” Harry asks, moving back to where he can access Louis’ hole nicely.

“Do you have lube in all of your guest rooms?” Louis asks, and Harry laughs with him. Harry also shoves his middle finger inside of Louis with no warning and Louis yelps out, body spasming at the unexpected intrusion. Not that Louis minds, of course.

“No,” Harry says, almost thoughtfully, while he finger-fucks Louis. “I don’t. The one across the hall is the one my parents normally sleep in and the one next door my sister takes, so that would be weird. But,” Harry twists his hand and adds in his pointer finger, Louis groaning at the stretch, “I do keep lube in here for my other friends. I keep condoms in here, too, and in the bathroom. If I have friends staying here, I want to make sure they’re safe.”

Why is Harry so weirdly thoughtful?

Louis can’t stop _moving_ , though, and Harry clearly has a thing for it. Louis can’t decide what to do with his hands; he’s fisting them in the sheets, grabbing onto the headboard, holding onto his own hair for leverage. Harry keeps twisting his fingers inside of Louis, pressing against his prostate for long periods and then fucking them in and out so fast that Louis can’t breathe without moaning.

Harry pulls out his three long fingers and wipes them off on the sheets. Louis can feel how much he’s open, now, and he needs something inside of him again.

“Harry,” He says and God he sounds so wanton, it’s ridiculous, “Please, Harry, I want your cock.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby, you’re going to get it.” Harry’s coating his (big, big, big) cock in lube and Louis bites his lip, wondering how it’s even going to fit. Louis must look worried because Harry pauses and says “Okay, yellow for a second baby.”

Louis nods, trying to blink and focus on the conversation.

“Earlier you said you were fine with no condom. Are you still fine with that? I can very easily get one. I will wait as long as you want to fuck you bare, if you ever want to fuck bare, alright?”

How did Louis get so lucky?

“It’s not that,” Louis says, smiling. “Really. I want you to come in me. That would--” Louis shuts his eyes and tries to refocus. He takes a deep breath and tries again. “That’s going to feel so good. It’s just.” Louis is having a hard time focusing. They _really_ should have discussed all of this beforehand. He can feel Harry stroking his thigh, which is calming, and he focuses on that movement. “You’re _big_ , Harry. I don’t know how it’s gonna fit. I _want_ it to fit, it’s driving me crazy to think of you in me, but you’re easily the biggest I’ve ever seen.”

“We can wait. I can get you a dildo, instead.”

God, Harry is too good for him.

“No, no,” Louis protests, “Please don’t. I want you in me. I really do. It’s just a bit -- overwhelming, to think about it. I don’t know how well I’ll be able to focus. I--” Louis bites his lip and tries to figure out how to word this. “I _love_ being stretched open. I--”

“You have a size kink.” Harry surmises for him and Louis can do nothing but nod back. Harry smirks. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Harry lets them breathe a few moments more before checking in to see if Louis is ready to begin again. Louis says yes, and they’re back.

“I’m gonna shove my big cock in you, and you’re going to stay still for me. Okay?” It’s not a request and Louis doesn’t treat it as one.

Harry grabs his cock with his right hand and pushes Louis’ leg up with his left. Louis acts on his own and hooks his right leg onto Harry’s shoulder, relishing in the stretch it produces in his calves and thighs. Harry kisses his ankle while he presses in, so, so slowly,

Louis was right to be worried, but also not. Harry is big and overwhelming and the force of his cock brings tears to Louis’ eyes, trailing down his face and to the sheets. But Harry is also gentle; he takes his time to make sure Louis feels good, like that’s his main goal. Harry is the gentlest dom Louis has ever come across. He’s not really focused on his own pleasure, although it’s obviously a large part of the scene. He takes without forcing it, and Louis is happy to give it to him.

Harry’s snapping his hips strong and steady, the sound of it somehow quiet amidst their own sounds. Louis has always been loud in bed but this is something else, like Harry is fucking every sound and breath right out of him, like Louis is desperate for Harry to know exactly how he’s feeling every second. It lasts forever, too; Harry’s got the stamina of a bull and the strength of one, too. Louis wonders what it would be like for Harry to pick him up during sex. For Louis to have no support but Harry’s arms around him and Harry’s cock inside of him. It’s heady.

After so long of Louis whining and stuffed on Harry’s cock and not being touched, he can’t take it anymore. He reaches for his cock, trying to jack it so he can just come, for fuck’s sake. Harry slaps his hand away.

“No touching, angel, want you to come on my cock and nothing else.” And, fuck, that’s just too much for Louis to take, but he _does_.

He comes and comes and comes, his entire body tensing up, his fingers and toes flexing and his voice high. Harry fucks him all the way through it and then some, and when Harry comes inside of him, all wet and full, Louis knows Harry was waiting for him. Louis loves him.

Fuck, Louis _loves_ him. But he can’t be that walking cliché of confessing his love right after sex. He refuses. He’ll tell Harry tomorrow, or something. Louis is out of his head at the moment. His body is weak and he’s stuffed so full of come he can’t think about anything else. He does, however, register Harry picking him up and carrying him across the house. The gentle swaying motion lulls Louis further down and he’s just so tired, now. He’s never trusted anyone else to do this with him, not quite in this way. Not this far.

Later, when Louis has regained more of his functions, Harry gives him all the water and grapes and strawberries he could possibly want. Louis is in love with this man. So, so in love .

 

* * *

 

“Over here! Harry, over here!” It’s a never-ending barrage of voices and lights and Louis hates this. He can’t see anything in front of him, he’s clinging onto Harry’s arm just so he won’t get lost, and he’s disoriented. But he loves Harry and Harry still doesn’t know that.

They pause for more pictures, and further down the carpet Louis knows there are some reporters that will be asking questions. This time last year, Louis was planted on his couch in his flat, sulking that the man on the screen in front of him never called him back. And now here he stands, dressed in an expensive suit next to his famous boyfriend.

Louis is smiling as naturally as he can despite it feeling so unnatural. Harry is truly in his element beside him, neutral smirk on his face, and Louis just feels like he’s being dragged along and like his mouth is too wide.

They move further down the carpet and towards the first reporter. “Harry, darling, how are you tonight?” She asks, but it’s not really a question because she barrels on with the next. “And who do we have here with us tonight?”

Harry smiles. He had told Louis about this woman earlier. She’s nice and doesn’t push, but is a bit quick in her speech so sometimes it’s hard to keep up.

“This is my boyfriend Louis.” Harry replies, wrapping an arm around Louis’ waist. Louis smiles at her and says hello,  waving towards the camera. “I wanted him to come tonight because he’s a big fan of the show. Figured he should experience it like this.”

This catches her attention. “Oh? Dating a fan? Risky business, Harry.” She jokes, but it’s also a bit of a question, this time aimed at Louis.

“I was a fan of the books before I even met Harry, actually. I met him when we were eighteen in a bar in Stirling. Then we met again a couple years later and he lost my number. It wasn’t until a few months ago that he found it again and gave me a call.” Louis knows everything is so much more complicated, but why spell out every point in his relationship for the world to see? Some things needed to remain private.

“That’s so sweet. Determined, eh, Harry?” She laughs, and Louis can see what Harry meant by nice but quick on the draw. “So good to meet you, though, Louis. Harry, can you tell us about _Summer_ and what this means for Victor and Eoghan?”

“I would say I don’t want to spoil anything, but the books have been out for twenty-eight years now so I guess I can. Victor and Eoghan fall in love in this season, getting closer despite Clifford watching their every move. This season, I feel, is the most romantic out of all four of them. It’s centered on Victor and Eoghan’s relationship more than anything else. It’s also my favorite out of the books as well, so I loved being able to bring that to life.” Harry answers, squeezing Louis’ hips.

“And you, Louis? How does it feel to see your boyfriend kiss someone else on screen?”

Louis really wasn’t prepared to answer any questions, but here they are. “I don’t mind it. When I say I’m a huge fan of the books, I mean it. Got a twitter and everything for it. I was so excited for the show to come out and Harry does a pretty good job at Victor, and of course the rest of the cast is incredible as well. I understand they’re separate, Victor and Harry, so I don’t mind it at all. Niall’s a good bloke, too.”

She nods and smiles at the camera. “Alright, you heard it here first, viewers! Thanks so much for speaking with us tonight, Harry and Louis. Have a good rest of your night.”

They thank her and move on to the next reporter who doesn’t focus on Louis at all, instead putting all their efforts into drilling Harry for as much information as possible on his private life and almost nothing on the show or the novels. It’s hard to get through, but get through it they do.

The inside of the venue is enormous, much larger than it seems on the outside. There’s a giant movie screen on the far end of the room, playing still shots of the episode behind the scenes, overlayed with the soundtrack to _Kensington Gardens_. There’s tables strewn across the room, set with plates and other necessities. Louis follows Harry to their assigned table, where Niall is already sat down with Cara and her girlfriend. While everyone sits and chats for a while, dinner is eventually served, and just moments after everyone has their food, the show begins.

When Louis agreed to this, he somehow didn’t register the fact that they were going to be here for almost four hours. On the second episode, Louis watches as Victor and Eoghan walk through an older, private Kensington Gardens. No one is around them, and they’re free to just be with each other. This is Louis’ favorite scene in the books and he’s so excited to see it.

“Eoghan,” Victor starts, not looking towards him as they speak. They’re walking towards an intricate gazebo, bright and shining in the light of day, an oak tree standing tall nearby. “I wish to be frank with you, if I may.”

Eoghan turns to look at him, face soft. Niall does such a good job, even with garish red hair. “Of course. You are the person I consider to be closest to me, I always want you to feel comfortable around me.”

Victor smiles, soft. It’s so like Harry that Louis is struck out of the scene for a moment, reaching over to grab Harry’s hand and bring it up to his mouth to kiss it.

“This is not an easy secret to confess. You already know of my deepest secret, of my love for Jeremiah and of my fear of Clifford. But, Eoghan--” Victor pauses as they reach the gazebo, both of them stepping into it. Victor walks to the far end, grasping onto the railing and looking pained. Harry is amazing. Harry is amazing in this scene, and Louis can hardly believe it. He _is_ Victor here. “Why is it so hard to say these three worn words? I always fear I will have to whisper them, like the rubbing hands of tourists in Verona.”

Eoghan reaches for Victor’s hands, holding them both between his own.

“I want to love you in my own language. No whispers. No words.”

They kiss, and it’s everything Louis ever imagined.

 

* * *

 

  
The premiere of _Fall_ rolls around the next year.

Clifford kills himself in this part when Astrid rejects him. Astrid and Victor marry. Eoghan helps Victor cut his hair and they kiss, all the time. They have to love each other in private but it’s enough for them, to have each other.  

Louis has a ring on his finger, and Harry by his side. Louis has those three, worn words tattooed on his arm in Harry’s handwriting, Harry has them inscribed on his ribs in Louis’ writing. They’re promised, they’re destined.

Louis is happy and in love.

He should probably write Chad Dylan Cooper a thank-you letter.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading !! i loved writing this over the past week. sterling knight, if ur out there, ilu
> 
> title and some dialogue lifted from alt-j's song ["3WW"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZwBkXgWNs_M)
> 
> come chat with me on my [tumblr](http:skyebyrd.tumblr.com)!


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